A Sinister Sense (2 page)

He grunted with pain, and Clara screwed up her face in sympathy. Rick, it seemed, was not having a good day, what with the disobedient dog and the bandage she’d just noticed adorning the forefinger of his right hand.

Bracing his foot against the wall, Rick hauled on the leash. “She’s got a new boyfriend who hates dogs. To be more specific, he hates Tatters. So now I’m supposed to give him a home? What the heck does she think I’m going to do with him? I can’t leave him alone in the house. He’ll wreck the place the minute I’m gone.”

Clara wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. She’d known Rick just a few months, and they’d become friendly enough to talk about a few things on a personal level. This was the first time, however, that Rick had mentioned his ex-wife.

Of course, there were a lot of things she hadn’t told him, either, but somehow an ex-wife seemed a very significant part of his past, and the fact he hadn’t once spoken of her suggested a pretty bad split between them.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to work things out,” she said, mostly because Rick was looking at her as if he expected her to solve his problem. “He seems like a sweet dog and just needs a little attention, that’s all.”

“He needs a lot more than attention. He needs discipline. Look at him. He’s just waiting for the chance to
break free again.” He waved a hand at Tatters, who now stood looking at him, tail wagging, waiting for his master’s next move.

Rick’s gray eyes were full of desperation when he looked back at her. “I don’t suppose you know anyone who could tame this tiger?”

She hesitated, eager to help but unsure what it would entail. She liked Rick. Really liked him. If things had been different, if she’d never met the man of her dreams in New York, only to find out he was a cheat and a liar, she might have encouraged Rick to take their relationship further.

The pain of her breakup, however, was still fresh in her mind. Even though it had been almost a year since she’d moved back to Finn’s Harbor, she was far from ready to trust her heart to anyone yet. No one, she’d vowed, was ever going to hurt her that badly again.

As far as Rick was concerned, she’d managed to keep things uncomplicated, and he seemed to be comfortable with that arrangement. She enjoyed his friendship and was careful not to get into situations that could jeopardize that by letting something more personal creep in.

She was still trying to figure out how she could work with the dog without spending too much time with his owner when Rick said quietly, “It’s okay. Forget I mentioned it. Maybe I’ll just try to find a home for him. Somewhere where he can run about without demolishing everything that he comes in contact with.”

He gave her a quick wave before being dragged across the street by the enthusiastic Tatters.

Watching them go, Clara suddenly noticed a tingling awareness washing over her. She knew the sensation well. She was about to hear voices in her head—voices that spoke in riddles and phrases she couldn’t understand. Voices that led her down paths she didn’t want to go, and put obstacles in her way to prevent her from following her instincts.

Her reaction was automatic and swift. Closing off her mind, she hurried down to the Reading Nook, where a comfortable couch and a pot of coffee awaited her.

Ever since she’d realized that she had the Quinn Sense and Stephanie didn’t, she’d felt isolated somehow. Although most of the family had some degree of psychic ability, she’d kept hers a secret. Far from being the empowering, exciting and liberating experience the cousins had imagined, being able to interpret dreams and occasionally read minds and foretell the future had made Clara feel like a freak.

Desperate to regain some sense of normalcy, she’d left Maine to attend college in New York, where no one knew her or her family. She’d soon discovered that, hard as she tried, she couldn’t escape the infamous legacy. The Quinn Sense continued to interfere with her life and mess up her mind.

Worse, it was unpredictable—never there when she needed it, and intruding when she least expected it. When the Sense had failed to prevent her from making the biggest mistake of her life, the betrayal was the last straw. On her thirtieth birthday she’d picked up the pieces and come home to Finn’s Harbor.

Her cell phone sang out just then, shattering her thoughts. Stephanie’s voice buzzed in her ear, full of tension and anxiety as usual.

“Clara! I just read in the
Chronicle
that the sales of e-books are taking over print versions. What are we going to do? I
knew
I shouldn’t have leased that store. What was I thinking? This is the absolute
worst
time to own a bookstore!”

Clara sighed. She’d had this conversation with her cousin more than once, and each time Stephanie had been certain she was headed for bankruptcy. “Calm down, Steffie. The world isn’t going to end just because a few misinformed fanatics go around waving placards saying it is. Books are going to be around for at least as long as you’ll want to sell them.”

“Yes, but if everyone is reading them on electronic readers, who’s going to buy print books?”

“Everyone who doesn’t like electronic readers. More than enough people to keep you in business for a long time, I promise you.”

Stephanie’s sigh echoed down the line. “I hope you’re right. George keeps telling me the same thing, but then husbands always tell their wives what they want to hear. I just can’t help feeling I should have opened a knitting shop instead.”

Clara rolled her eyes. “You’ve never knitted anything in your life.”

“What difference does that make?”

“You’ve spent your entire life immersed in magic and
all things paranormal. With all the interest in it now, opening a bookstore specializing in the occult was a brilliant idea, and you are the perfect person to do it, so stop obsessing over things you can’t control. The Raven’s Nest is doing just fine. Especially since you opened the Reading Nook. Half the town comes here for the coffee and donuts.”

“I know you’re right.” Stephanie paused, then added in a rush, “I just wish I had the Sense, like you. It would have made planning things so much easier.”

Deciding this was the perfect time to change the subject, Clara launched into a detailed account of Roberta’s confrontation with Rick’s dog.

Stephanie laughed through most of it, until Clara mentioned that Rick was thinking of finding the dog a home. “Oh, you can’t let him do that!” Now her cousin sounded close to tears. “That poor dog has already lost one home. Think how awful it would be for him to go to strangers. Can’t you look after him?”

“Me? Why me? I’m a stranger, too.”

“Yes, but you have…you know…” Stephanie paused, obviously mindful of her cousin’s adverse reaction whenever the Quinn Sense was mentioned.

“Just because I get along with dogs doesn’t mean I want to adopt one,” Clara said firmly. “Besides, can you imagine what my mother would say if I brought a dog that size into the house? She’d have hysterics.”

“Well, you keep saying you’re tired of living with Aunt Jessie and you want to find an apartment.”

“I do, but so far my hunting for one has produced zero opportunities. Besides, an apartment manager is even less likely to view Tatters with a fond eye.”

Stephanie giggled. “Tatters. What a ridiculous name.”

Clara smiled. “Oddly enough, the name suits him.”

“Oh, he sounds adorable. What a shame Rick can’t keep him. I feel so bad for him. I wish—” She broke off, raising her voice to yell at an unseen child. “Michael?
Michael!
What are you doing with that tennis racket?
What?
No! You may
not
use it as a sled. Stay away from the stairs. You hear me?”

Clara held the phone away from her ear, well used to her cousin’s tirades. Stephanie had three kids, and while Ethan, the eldest, lived in front of his computer and was barely seen or heard, Olivia and Michael spent most of their time seeing who could get into the most trouble.

“Sorry,” Stephanie muttered, when apparently peace was restored. “What was I saying? Oh, yes, about the dog. Surely there’s some way Rick could keep him? Can’t you talk to him? Persuade him to give Tatters a second chance?”

It was time to end the conversation, Clara decided. Her cousin was making her feel guilty, which was ridiculous, of course. She had no good reason to feel guilt over what was Rick’s problem and Rick’s alone.

After she hung up, she poured herself a cup of coffee and tried to relax, but the uncomfortable feeling still gnawed away at her stomach. She kept seeing the dog’s dark brown eyes staring hopefully into hers, his tail slowly swishing back and forth.

There was nothing she could do, she reminded herself. Working full-time in the bookstore and living with her mom were two very good reasons she couldn’t devote her time to training a lovable but totally undisciplined dog. Especially one that was almost as tall as her when standing on his hind legs—no mean feat, since she was five feet ten without her shoes.

Nope, Rick would just have to take care of his own problem. She just hoped he’d decide to keep the dog, so she wouldn’t have to feel guilty anymore.

That night she dreamed a monster dog was chasing her along the beach. Her feet kept sinking in the sand, and the dog was drawing closer as she fought to outrun him. Then, without warning, he vanished.

She turned and saw him struggling in the ocean, being taken out to sea by massive waves. Horrified, she tried to jump into the water, only to be thrown back by the current. She woke up with a start, her heart beating rapidly, as if she’d actually been running.

Annoyed with herself, she threw the tangled covers aside and leapt out of bed. She was beginning to wish she’d never set eyes on Tatters. It was easy enough to interpret her dream. She was still racked with guilt for what felt like her abandonment of the animal.

She’d thought that her years in New York had toughened her up, but here she was, obsessing over a dog she’d known for all of ten minutes.

It didn’t help her mood when her mother stuck a bowl of cereal in front of her covered in fresh raspberries,
strawberries and kiwifruit. Jessica Quinn was on a health kick and obviously felt that her daughter should follow her example.

“You don’t eat enough fruit and veggies,” Jessie said, wagging a finger at her. “How do you expect to stay healthy with a breakfast of toast and coffee?”

Clara gently pushed the plate away. “It hasn’t killed me yet.”

“You always used to eat a good breakfast, before you went to New York.” Jessie sat down to tackle her own bowl of fruit and cereal. “I don’t know what happened to you there, but whatever it was, it didn’t do you much good.”

Clara bit down hard on her toast and nipped the inside of her lip. Eyes watering, she drank down the last of her coffee. She was getting really tired of her mother probing about her past. Ever since Clara’s father had died from a heart attack a few years earlier, Jessie had turned to her daughter, taking a vested interest in her life to the point of intrusion.

At first Clara had made allowances, knowing that they were both working through the terrible grief of loss. But as time passed and Jessie’s meddling showed no signs of easing up, Clara’s tolerance was severely tested.

When she’d made the decision to return to Finn’s Harbor, the scarcity of suitable apartments had made living with her mother the only viable option. Promising herself it was only temporary, Clara had put up with Jessie’s constant digs and questions, hoping that eventually her mother would grow tired of the inquisition.

She certainly showed no signs of it that morning. “How much longer are you going to work in that bookstore?” she asked as Clara pushed her chair back from the table. “You have a college degree, for heaven’s sake. You should be teaching literature, not selling it.”

“I’ve looked for teaching jobs,” Clara said, picking up her plate and mug. “You know that. I’d have to move to Portland, and there’s no guarantee I’d get one there. Besides, I moved back to Finn’s Harbor because I like living here.”

“I can’t imagine why.” Jessie raised a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “This is such a dinky little town, it must feel like the back of beyond after living in a city like New York. I mean”—she waved a hand in the air—“what does Finn’s Harbor have to offer a woman like you? There are no eligible men to speak of…except for perhaps that good-looking charmer who owns the hardware store. Whatever happened to him, anyway? I thought you two were getting cozy.”

Clara puffed out her breath. “I have no intention of getting cozy with anyone. I didn’t come back here to find a husband, if that’s what you think.”

Jessie pouted. “I don’t know what to think. You’ve never told anyone why you left a glamorous, exciting life in one of the most stimulating cities in the world to hibernate in a town that’s invaded by strangers in the summer and pulls up the sidewalks in the winter.”

Carrying her plate and mug, Clara headed for the
kitchen. “I told you, I missed living here. I’m happy here, and that’s all that matters.”

“Are you?” Jessie followed her into the kitchen. “You don’t seem all that happy to me. You’ve changed, Clara, and I wish I knew why.”

Clara put her plate and mug in the dishwasher and turned to her mother. “I’m fine, Mom. You worry about me far too much. Why don’t you start living your own life again, instead of trying to live mine? You have friends. You could travel. Go on vacation somewhere.”

Jessie sighed. “I’d rather go with you.”

“I don’t have time. I’m busy helping Steffie at the store.” Clara leaned forward and planted a kiss on her mother’s cheek. “Quit worrying about me. I’m fine.”

“That’s what your father said the day he had his heart attack.”

Clara rolled her eyes. “It is not the same thing and you know it. Now I have to go, or I’ll be late for work. I’ve got a ton of errands to run before I can go to the bookstore.” She rushed out the door before her mother could think of something else to say to upset her. Something told her this was not going to be her day.

The feeling persisted all morning, growing even stronger as she finally drove to Main Street and parked the car halfway up the steep hill. Climbing out, she pulled in a deep breath. Clapboard storefronts lined the hillside street in a parade of pastel pink, blue and yellow. Below them, boats of all shapes and sizes crowded the harbor, while
farther out white sails dipped and swayed across the deep blue water.